My soul’s ethereal spark
Is dulled for sorrow; my despairs recall
At last Thy name, O gracious Paphian,
Lady of Mercy to the love of man!
Come, come, immortal, of the many thrones!
Sparrows and doves in chariot diamonded
Drawn through the midmost air!
O Lady of despair,
Who bound the golden helmet of Thy head?
Whose voice rings out the pitiful low tones: